


You Found Me

by coldrottingtrees



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Crossover, Dragon Castiel, Dragons, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fullmetal Alchemist-verse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pet Castiel, Soulless Sam Winchester, Tiny Castiel, hunters are alchemists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1352524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldrottingtrees/pseuds/coldrottingtrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, I got inspired by <a href="http://diminuel.tumblr.com/post/80113411747/dont-sweat-it-sweetheart-i-can-light-the-fires">this</a> piece of fanart and the accompanying text and decided I wanted to write some tiny!/dragon!Cas. In the process of trying to craft a plot for this thing, it went all crazytown in my head, and now it's a Fullmetal Alchemist AU for some reason and yeah. What started as just wanting to write a little bit of "Aww, tiny dragon!Cas is cute" turned into this... thing.</p><p>The artist who made that wonderful drawing gave me permission to write something based on it. </p><p>If you haven't read/watched FMA, don't worry, I'm going to attempt to explain everything as much as needed for anyone to understand whether you've seen FMA or not. </p><p>Dean and Sam tried to bring their mother back from the dead after John abandoned them. This went horribly wrong, and when Dean tried to bring Sam back, all he got was Sam's body - the soul remained lost. Now they're searching for a Philosopher's Stone, a powerful alchemical reagent that would enable Dean to bring back Sam's soul and restore his own lost limbs. </p><p>During their search for the stone, they find something that may be even more precious...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a song by The Fray.

“This could be it, Sam,” Dean said, gazing ahead at the mossy, overgrown mouth of the cave. “This could be where we finally find a philosopher’s stone.”

According to the research they’d done, a dragon had lived in this cave many years ago, and legend had it that one of the many treasures it hoarded was a philosopher’s stone. The story went that a group of pirates had attacked and successfully slain the dragon 34 years ago and plundered its hoard. But no philosopher’s stone had ever been found.

The brothers had decided it was a promising enough lead to go investigate. They had ways of finding things that others might miss. If the philosopher’s stone was still hidden somewhere in the cave, Dean and Sam would find it.

It was a long and slow trek through the cave, stopping frequently to search any nooks and crevices as a possible hiding place for the stone. Dean especially had trouble making his way through the cave - though the automail prosthetic that served as his lower left leg was dexterous enough to allow a full range of movement, it had no sensory input, and in the darkness, navigating the many slopes and cracks of the cave floor was very difficult without any sense of touch in one of his feet.

Sam caught Dean as Dean stumbled for the third time and pointed ahead.

“Look,” Sam whispered.

An enormous red dragon lay curled as though asleep, though its state of decay and obvious mortal wounds spoke otherwise. What was likely once a thin puncture wound from a dragon blade now gaped due to the desiccation of its skin, and from it a dark, dried trail of blood was still visible. Its horns had been crudely sawed away, a trophy taken, and the wounds atop its head had trailed blood down either side of its face like tears.

Sam and Dean approached the dead dragon silently. The scene was too grotesque and sorrowful for conversation. They explored the cave wordlessly, searching for the stone.

"Sam, looks like the dragon was curled up around something," Dean whispered.

He carefully pried up its paw, but it wasn't a philosopher's stone it had died protecting. Safe against its body, hidden behind its arms and tail, was a clutch of tiny baby dragons. All long dead.

"Oh, man," Dean whispered sadly.

He reached out with his good hand to touch one of the babies. Its papery skin collapsed under the light pressure, revealing bones and insides turned to dust.

Dean studied them broken-heartedly, looking at each tiny, sunken-eyed face.

Closest to the mother, partially hidden beneath the rest, one hatchling still looked perfect. Its eyelids were still round and full, as though the eyes had not yet rotted away.

Hoping this one wouldn’t fall apart, Dean reached out to touch it, to see what a baby dragon felt like. He carefully, so carefully, slid a fingertip along the depressingly prominent spine, feeling its ridges under the smooth scales.

And then its eye opened.

“Oh my god, Sammy, this one’s ali--”

Dean’s excited announcement was cut off by the hatchling striking. Dean hissed in shock and pain and shot to his feet, hatchling still dangling from the tip of his finger. He just managed to avoid instinctively shaking his hand to get the dragon off. Instead, he held his hand out to show Sam.

“Look!” he beamed excitedly. “It’s biting me!”

“Does it hurt?” Sam asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, a lot,” Dean laughed.

The hatchling’s strength gave out, its jaws released, and it dropped from Dean’s finger.

“Oh shit!” Dean gasped, and he caught the tiny creature before it could hit the floor. By reflex, he pressed the hatchling to his chest in both hands to keep it safe from falling again.

For a moment, the hatchling struggled, but then Dean could feel it burrowing against his chest. It curled into a ball in the cavern of his hands, seeking his warmth and the comfort of his heartbeat.

“Oh my god,” Dean said softly, pulling his fingers away from his chest just slightly so he could peer inside and look at the dragon. “Sam, it’s falling asleep in my hands.”

“Well, _I’ve_ been looking for the philosopher’s stone, you know, like we came here to do? And I haven’t found it. I don’t think it’s here.”

“Yeah, I don't think so either,” Dean muttered, distracted by the dragonling.

“So, we should probably go,” Sam said pointedly.

“Yeah, let’s head out,” Dean said, a little smile on his face as he watched the hatchling fall asleep.

“So… you should put the dragon back.”

“What?” Dean looked up at Sam, his hold on the baby dragon tightening against his chest protectively.

“It’s a _dragon_ ,” Sam said impatiently. “What do you think you’re going to do, _adopt_ it? Yeah, this is sad, I get it. But it’s not our fault its mother died. And unfortunately, when baby animals' mothers die, they usually die too. This is nature, Dean, you’re going to have to leave it here and let nature take its course.”

Dean stared at Sam for a moment, disappointed by his casual, pragmatic coldness. It never changed, not since he’d brought Sam back unwhole, but it still hurt.

He opened his hand again just enough to look down at the hatchling.

“I know what it’s like to lose your mom,” he said softly to the dragon. He looked back up at Sam. “Sam, I’m sorry, man, I can’t leave this thing here to die. I just can’t do it.”

“Dean, look at its mother. It’s going to be _that big_ , or _bigger_ if it’s male. That won’t fit in the bunker. And as soon as it’s big enough, it _will_ try to eat us.”

“As soon as it’s big enough to live on it’s own, I’ll release it somewhere,” Dean said defensively.

“ _Dean_.”

“I’m not leaving the damn dragon,” Dean snarled, and turned and started walking out of the cavern. “If you still had a soul, you wouldn’t leave it to die, either.”

Sam sighed exasperatedly and followed. “If you say so.”

“And we’re stopping by a pet store or something on our way back to the bunker,” Dean called over his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

“This is fun,” Dean said, putting the finishing touches on the reptile enclosure. “I always wanted a pet growing up.”

“Really?” Sam asked, keeping a wary eye on the little plastic carrier the baby dragon was being kept in until the enclosure was ready.

“Yeah, Dad said I should be satisfied with taking care of you, instead,” Dean said dryly. “I’ll be honest, you weren’t as much fun as I figured a ferret or a snake would’ve been.”

“So that explains the ‘teaching me tricks’ phase,” Sam muttered. “You know, I was a little kid and I _still_ knew it was humiliating.”

“Bullshit,” Dean scoffed, plugging in the enclosure’s heat lamp and heated rock. “You loved it. Dad’s the one who made me stop, he said it’d make you weird.”

“Looking back on it, maybe it did,” Sam said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, probably,” Dean shrugged. He then stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Man, this looks _awesome_.”

The aquarium had a large fake plant, a climbing branch (“Do dragons like to climb?” Dean had asked Sam, who had only glared in response), a heat rock, a hiding cave, a water dish, and a food dish. It took up most of Dean’s desk.

“I wonder how long it’ll take before it outgrows it,” Sam said.

“Hopefully a while, I like this thing. And damn, aquariums are expensive.”

“Well, maybe when the dragon outgrows it, you can just release it into the wild and go get a normal pet to take its place,” Sam suggested unhelpfully.

“I’m keeping the dragon until it’s ready, not just until it’s too big for the tank,” Dean growled.

He walked over to the plastic carrier sitting on his bed and peered inside. The dragon was curled up in a tight ball, probably asleep. Dean opened the lid and its head snapped up, wide awake now, and stared at Dean’s fingers menacingly.

Dean looked at his metal prosthetic hand and sighed. It was functional, but nowhere near as dexterous as a real hand. He wouldn't have any sense of how much pressure he was exerting if he tried to use that hand, and could easily injure something as delicate as an emaciated baby dragon.

So, he'd have to use his flesh hand. His sensitive, easily punctured, flesh hand.

“Shh, it’s okay baby, don’t bite me, just gonna take you to your new home,” Dean whispered in placating, sing-song tones. He slowly lowered his hand toward the dragon, which flattened its head so its horns lay protectively over its neck, in a posture that looked like Phase One of Preparing to Strike.

Dean stopped moving his hand, just left it hovering above the dragon.

“Shhh,” he repeated soothingly. “Don’t bite, just gonna pick you up…”

He cautiously inched his fingers closer, and the dragon leapt up and bit him.

“OW, FUCK,” Dean yelled, snatching his hand back out of the carrier, tiny dragonling still attached. He clutched his hand to his chest and gently pried the dragon off.

“Yeah, that’s only going to get worse,” Sam pointed out bitchily.

“Shut up, Sam, not helping,” Dean growled. He carried the hatchling to the enclosure, lifted the mesh lid, and carefully laid it on the warm heat rock.

At first it didn’t move, only laid where it had been placed. But once the lid snapped back into place, and it no longer perceived an immediate threat, it darted directly into the hiding cave.

“Poor thing,” Dean said softly. “It must be so scared.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be much happier once it’s twice your size and digesting us both.”

Dean rolled his eyes and picked up the box of mealworms he’d gotten for the dragon. He opened the lid of the enclosure and carefully dropped a mealworm just outside the mouth of the hiding rock.

“I have no idea what baby dragons eat,” Dean said apologetically as he closed the lid again. “So I’m hoping you’ll eat the same stuff the guy at the pet store said most baby reptiles like to eat.”

He backed away from the tank and went to sit on his bed next to Sam. Both of them watched quietly, both curious to see if the dragon would eat.

It took a few minutes, but eventually a tiny snout emerged from the darkness of the hiding rock. Slowly, its whole head peered out into the light, and once it seemed satisfied that danger didn’t lurk immediately nearby, it snatched the mealworm and ducked back into the shadows of the cave.

“It’s eating!” Dean whispered excitedly.

Sam sighed, but he was smiling a little, too. “I’m happy for you, Dean,” he said, giving Dean a quick, affectionate smack on the knee as he stood up. “Have fun with your little destroyer of worlds.”

Sam headed out of Dean’s room, but just as he was about to go out the door, he stopped and turned to face Dean again.

“So,” he said, resigned, “what’re you gonna name it?”

“I wish I knew if it was a boy or a girl.”

Sam gave a short laugh. “Well, that’s all you, Dean, don’t ask me to help you sex a dragon. Have you ever heard how they sex reptiles?”

“Actually, no. ...What do they do?”

“Usually it involves poking around at their ‘vent’ and extruding their sex organs.”

“Okay, let’s just call it a girl until proven otherwise then,” Dean said, returning to the tank to drop in a few more mealworms. “And I’ll give it a nice androgynous name so if it turns out she’s a boy, I can keep calling her the same thing.”

Sam nodded.

“I’ll call her Zeppelin,” Dean smiled, watching as the dragon nosed the air just beyond the hiding rock, scenting the mealworms.

“I like it,” Sam nodded. “Try not to get too attached.”

 

* * *

 

When Dean woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was excitedly check the dragon tank. He’d turned off the heat lamp over night, so they could both have darkness for sleeping, and when he turned it back on, Zeppelin was laying curled up on the heat rock.

“You’re so cute,” Dean sang.

Zeppelin lifted her head and stretched her wings at him. Maybe it was a threatening, defensive gesture, but Dean cooed admiringly.

“Ooo, you’re so beautiful!” he exclaimed, pulling up his desk chair so he could sit and stare into the tank.

The dragon cocked its head, almost as if it understood the words and was confused by them.

“Wow, you might learn to talk someday,” Dean said, mostly to himself, astonished by the idea. “Well, in case you can understand me, my name’s Dean. I don’t know if you have a name or not, but I’m calling you Zeppelin. I hope you like that name. If you ever start talking, you can tell me, okay?”

The dragon lowered its head back down to the heat rock, but continued to watch Dean, as though listening.

“I’m… I’m really sorry about what happened to your mom, and your brothers and sisters. I kind of know what that’s like, not the same, I know, but… I get it. My Mom's dead, too, and my brother… well, I kind of lost him, too. I know nothing’ll ever be the same as having your real family, but I’m gonna do the best I can to take care of you until you’re big and strong enough to live on your own, and then you can go wherever you want. I don’t know anything about raising baby dragons, but I’m gonna do the best I can. I promise.”

The dragon slowly closed its eyes, soothed to sleep by the sound of Dean’s voice.

 

* * *

 

The next time Dean checked the tank, Zeppelin was coiled in the water dish. Only her bright blue eyes, tiny nostrils, curling horns, and the clawed tips of her wings poked out above water.

“Everything you do is cute,” Dean smiled, hearts practically floating out of his ears.

The dragon peered at him from the water dish, eyes squinting judgmentally. The water was murky with filth that the dragon was soaking off, all the dirt that had remained from the cave.

“If you climb out of that water dish, I’ll change the water for you, give you fresh, clean water again,” Dean offered experimentally, testing to see if maybe Zeppelin really could understand him.

The dragon stared at him a moment longer, and then slowly, cautiously, climbed out of the water dish and went to lay on the heat rock to dry.

“Gonna open the lid,” Dean said, hoping that if he just warned Zeppelin about everything first, it wouldn’t startle her into biting him again. “And just gonna reach my hand in here,” he said, reaching inside to grab the water dish. “There we go. I’ll be right back with clean water for you,” he said, and snapped the lid shut.

“Sam! The dragon understands me!” Dean yelled as he walked through the bunker, taking the water dish to the kitchen to wash and refill it.

“Really?” Sam said, poking his head out of his room as Dean went by.

“Yes! I told her if she got out of this bowl I’d refill it for her, and she did it!”

“I mean, could be coincidence, but dragons are sentient and at least as intelligent as humans, maybe more so. Maybe we can ask it about the philosopher's stone."

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean said gruffly, feeling protective. “Just, not yet. She’s been through a lot, and we didn’t rescue her just to use her to find that thing.”

Sam rolled his eyes and went back into his room.

Dean came back to his room with a fresh bowl of water, and stopped at the tank to stare at Zeppelin.

Now that she’d been washed clean of all the grime from the cave, he could actually see her colors. She was magnificent. He’d thought she was simply flat black when he first saw her, but now her scales shone under the bright light of the heat lamp, glossy black with a gleaming blue iridescence.

“Here you go, beautiful,” Dean said, putting the water dish back in her tank.

She stared at him a moment, and then went to the bowl to drink. Dean watched, finding the delicate flickering of her forked tongue mesmerizing.

After she’d had water, she turned to look right at Dean, opened her mouth, and screeched like a hungry baby bird.

“Lunch time?” Dean laughed. “Be right back, then.” He got up and went back to the kitchen to fetch the mealworms from the fridge.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Dean woke up slowly, a strange but deeply soothing sound gradually prompting him to wakefulness.

It was _purring_ , and Dean was alarmed to realized that it was emanating from his own chest. He was sleeping on his back, and curled up right over his heart lay Zeppelin. Purring.

“Dragons _purr?”_ Dean chuckled. “How the hell did you get out of your tank?”

 _< I opened the lid,>_ Dean heard spoken into his own thoughts.

Dean stared at the dragon. _Zeppelin?_ he thought back at her.

_< My name is not Zeppelin.>_

_Wow, it’s you!_

The dragon lifted its head and opened its sapphire blue eyes to look at Dean.

 _Hi!_ Dean thought excitedly.

Dean felt not-Zeppelin smiling, even though the gesture didn’t appear on the dragon’s face.

 _This is amazing,_ Dean thought wondrously. _So, what’s your name?_

_< Castiel.>_

_Is that… a boy name? Or a girl name?_

The dragon cocked its head. _< I do not know.>_

Dean laughed. “Great, go figure. Even you don’t know what sex you are.”

 _< I am male, if that’s what you were asking,>_ Castiel said.

“50/50 chance and of course I managed to get it wrong. Sorry I’ve been calling you a girl this whole time.”

_< I do not mind.>_

“Well, now I know better. So, Cas, how do you like the tank? Is it okay?”

_< I like it. But I don’t like to sleep alone.>_

“Okay,” Dean smiled. “I’m glad you like the tank, and you can sleep with me any time you want.”

 _< Thank you,>_ Castiel said, smiling in Dean’s mind.

Castiel stood and stretched, cat-like, with a big yawn that showed off his small, needle-sharp teeth. He then walked up Dean’s chest to stare at his face up close. He and Dean exchanged a long, wordless look at each other, and then Castiel began to shimmer and blur in Dean’s vision. Dean blinked, and Castiel reformed in front of his eyes. Now the dragon standing on his chest, though still tiny, looked like a young boy, human all but for the black wings and twisting horns which remained. And, frustratingly for Dean, the terribly sharp little claws on his fingers and toes.

Dean stared, astonished. “Amazing…” he breathed. He was so shocked he didn’t even know what to say. “I… need to clip those nails if you’re going to be walking on me,” he eventually said, the only thing he could manage to put into words.

Cas huffed and flew back to his tank. Dean watched as he lowered himself through a hole in the mesh lid. He got up to inspect the damage, curious what Cas had done to it.

“Did you _melt_ this?” Dean asked, touching a finger to the edge of the hole in the wire mesh.

“You locked it shut,” came Castiel’s tiny little human voice from inside the tank. It was so cute that Dean couldn’t stay mad about the ruined lid. “I had to get out somehow.”

“How did you melt it? Can you breathe fire?” Dean asked incredulously.

“I’m a dragon,” Castiel answered, with an implied “dumbass” at the end. He shifted back into his natural form then, and curled up on his heat rock.

“It doesn’t get too hot, does it?” Dean asked worriedly. “Sam said some people talked about their animals getting burned on those.”

Sam, who didn’t even want the dragon in the bunker and honestly didn't care if it lived or died, had spent hours researching reptile care on Dean’s behalf. Even if he didn’t like the dragon, he still loved an excuse to research.

 _< I love this rock,>_ Castiel answered. _< Bring the light back as well.>_

Dean turned the heat lamp back on, and Castiel resumed his purring.

“Dean Winchester, Light-Bringer,” Dean said in his best epic fantasy narrator voice, imagining himself with long, flowing hair, a broadsword, and a loincloth.

 _< Is that your full name?>_ Castiel asked.

“No, I just… It was funny. For a second,” Dean said self-consciously, hoping that the telepathy didn’t include seeing mental images.

Castiel didn’t respond, just continued to purr, dozing off. Dean showed himself out, leaving Cas to nap while he took a shower.

 

* * *

 

“Yeah, I’m a cowboy! I got the night on my side!” Dean belted out, singing at the top of his lungs over the sound of the shower. His eyes were closed, scrubbing shampoo through his hair.

He was just about to rinse when he felt something drop onto the top of his head. And then _move_. He let out a truly undignified squawk and flailed at the top of his head, trying to brush whatever it was off.

“Ahhhh, get it off get it off get it off!” he wailed, as his fingers made contact and whacked the creature off of his head.

He heard a whooshing sound, like something flying ( _OH MY GOD it’s a fucking BAT in the shower!_ ), and a pissed off sounding grunt. ( _??_ )

“...Cas?” Dean asked, carefully prying open one eye to look around, trying to avoid shampoo foam flowing directly into his eyeball.

“Why did you hit me?” He sounded righteously ticked off, but with his adorable little human voice, the effect was lost.

“Dude, do _not_ attack people in the shower,” Dean said firmly. “Nightmare fuel.”

“I wasn’t attacking you,” Castiel insisted, annoyed that apparently Dean couldn’t tell the difference. “I just landed on you.”

Dean heard another air-swishing sound, and then felt Cas land on his head again.

“You’re… fluffy,” Cas said, sounding enamored. He then started burrowing around in the shampoo foam.

Dean sighed happily. It was a strangely enjoyable sensation.

“For a big, scary dragon, you’re awfully adorable,” Dean grinned.

Cas crawled over to the side of Dean’s head, intending to bite him on the ear in retaliation, but when he leaned over the slippery shampoo made him lose his grip, and he slid right off. Dean’s eyes flew open and, with his fighter’s reflexes, managed to catch him before he hit the floor.

Cas stared up at Dean and stretched his wings out, giving them a few slow flaps. Dean still wasn’t sure what the gesture meant, but he assumed it was something like when other reptiles puffed themselves up - a way of saying “fuck off or I’ll kill you.”

“I can’t help that I think you’re cute,” Dean said, a left-handed sort of apology. “Ack! In my eyes!”

He squeezed his eyes shut and quickly put Cas down so he could scrub water in his eyes, trying to wash out the shampoo. Cas flew up and landed on his head again, tiny hands gripping fistfuls of hair.

Once Dean had gotten the shampoo out of his eyes, he decided to mess with Cas a little bit. He needed to rinse his hair, so, without warning the little creature first, he turned around and tilted his head back into the stream of water. But instead of squawking or flailing, Cas opened his wings, turned them back and forth in the water, and started crooning.

Dean felt like his heart might pop. He concentrated on this feeling, this immense affection, and tried to project it toward Cas, the way they talked when he was in his fully reptilian form.

The melody of Cas’s crooning shifted, and started to sound suspiciously like “Wanted Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi.

“Here,” Dean said, carefully plucking Cas off his head. “You seem to like shampoo. Let me show you how it works.”

Dean held Cas in the palm of his plastic-encased automail hand (he wrapped his arm and leg when he showered to protect the automail as much as possible from too much water exposure) and with his other hand carefully squirted a tiny dollop of shampoo on the top of Cas's head. With one finger, he worked the shampoo through Cas’s dark, wavy hair.

“Now, take your hands and scrunch it through your hair, like this,” Dean said, demonstrating on his own head with his free hand. “And close your eyes, it burns if it gets in your eyes.”

Cas followed Dean’s instructions, sitting cross-legged in Dean’s palm.

“Feels nice, huh?” Dean said warmly.

 _< I love shampoo,>_ Cas answered in Dean’s mind.

Dean smiled.

After their shower, Dean toweled Cas and himself off and removed the plastic from his automail. Cas was sitting perched on his automail right shoulder, and Dean could feel his tiny hands exploring the thick veins of scar tissue that branched out across his chest, remnants of the surgery that had attached it.

“What happened to your limbs?” Cas asked.

“Alchemy,” Dean muttered. “You know what that is?”

“No.”

“It’s kinda like magic. You take one thing and make it into another. My brother and I… we tried to do something with it that you’re never supposed to do. The transmutation took my brother and my left leg. I tried to get my brother back - I gave it my right arm to bring him back. But I didn’t get all of him. Just… a piece.”

“Oh,” Castiel whispered, petting the scars.

Dean grabbed an oil can and carefully injected the oil into his arm and leg.

“I like the metal,” Cas said, stroking the shiny steel shoulder.

“I’m glad one of us does,” Dean said with a little bitterly huffed laugh.

Dean plucked Cas off his shoulder and set him on the sink counter so he could get dressed. This is when it first occurred to Dean that maybe Cas should have clothes.

When he returned to his room, he picked an old, threadbare t-shirt that needed replacing anyway and tore off a long strip.

“Here, if you’re going to run around human-shaped like that, you should wear this,” Dean said, tying the strip of soft cloth around Cas’s hips like a sarong.

Cas studied it speculatively a moment, and then jumped into the air and tested flying with it on. Seeing that it didn’t slip off in flight and didn’t hinder his movements, he landed on Dean’s shoulder and nodded his approval.

“I like it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulless!Sam isn't nice.

“Ready for some lunch?”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed eagerly, still perched on Dean’s automail shoulder.

“You can ride along with me to the kitchen if you’d like, I’ll give you some mealworms while I fix something for me and Sam.”

“I want what you’re having,” Cas said as Dean headed to the kitchen.

Dean chuckled. “I’ll give you a little meat if you want, but not too much, not till I know whether or not you can handle it. Don’t want you regurgitating a bunch of hamburger.”

Dean stopped to peer out into the library before going to the kitchen. Sam was at one of the long tables reading.

“Sam! Look!” Dean said, nodding his head toward newly human-shaped Cas on his shoulder.

Sam looked up and stared at Castiel.

“I… did not know they could do that,” he said curiously. “Wait. Did it… _imprint_ on you?” He then burst out laughing. “Oh Dean, you idiot. That thing’s never leaving now, it’s freaking imprinted on you.”

Dean scowled. “I’m not an idiot,” he grumbled. “He’s smart, he can talk already! When he’s ready to leave, he’ll leave. He isn’t gonna hurt us.”

“It can talk?” Sam asked, interest piqued. He got up and walked over, peering at Castiel. “Say something.”

“I don’t think I like you,” Castiel said.

Sam chuckled.

“Hey, watch it,” Dean growled at Cas. “That’s my brother.”

Cas made an unhappy noise and slid off Dean’s shoulder to land neatly in the pocket on the chest of his outer shirt. Only the tips of his wings stuck out of the top of the pocket.

“Want some lunch?” Dean asked Sam. “Gonna make burgers.”

“Sounds great, thanks Dean,” Sam said, going back to his books.

Dean nodded and headed off to the kitchen, Cas still sulking in his pocket. He went to the fridge, opened the box of mealworms, and grabbed one to drop into his pocket on top of Cas’s head. Cas snatched it and immediately started devouring it. Dean watched him eat for a moment, finding it inexplicably adorable given the fact that it was a tiny person eating a grub, which should probably have been disgusting rather than endearing.

He washed his hands and then got the ground beef out of the fridge to start making burger patties. Cas grabbed the edge of Dean’s pocket and pulled himself up to peer over the top, sniffing the air.

“What’s that?” he asked, licking his lips.

“Beef. I’m gonna make cheeseburgers for me and Sam--”

Dean was interrupted by a tiny growl and then Cas leaping from his pocket to fly face-first into the raw beef. His fierce little growling continued as he chomped his way into the mound of meat.

“ACK DAMN IT CAS,” Dean exclaimed, carefully plucking the attacking dragon from the ground beef. Little imprints from his face and hands remained.

“WANT,” Castiel yelled, struggling in Dean’s fingers.

“I have to cook it first, and you don’t get to have all of it, that’s for me and Sam, too, jackass,” Dean shot back. He crammed Cas back into his shirt pocket and buttoned it closed. He then dropped a little heap of the ground beef into the skillet and started browning and crumbling it for Cas as Cas thrashed and made adorable little roaring sounds in his pocket, trying to escape.

Then he smelled burning and it wasn’t coming from the stove top. He looked down in time to see a black spot forming on his shirt pocket, which suddenly erupted into a hole ringed in flame that quickly ate its way outward. Cas poked his head out of the fiery hole and then squirmed his way free of the pocket.

“SHIT,” Dean squawked, and rushed to the sink to run some water in his hand and throw the water onto his burning pocket. He turned back to the stove to see Cas standing on the counter watching the beef cook in the skillet.

“You burned a hole in my shirt!” Dean yelled.

“You trapped me!” Cas yelled back. “Is it cooked?” he then asked, pointing at the browned beef.

Dean sighed. He couldn’t really think of a reasonable argument, I mean, what did he expect a fire-breathing dragon to do when he crammed it into a pocket?

“Yes, it’s cooked,” Dean said, getting a bowl out of the cabinet to scoop the beef out into. He set the bowl on the large wooden dining table. “Here, come eat over here while I make these burgers.”

He watched Cas make a running leap off the counter and fly past him across the kitchen to land gracefully on the table next to the bowl. Watching him fly was thrilling no matter how many times he saw it. He continued to watch as Cas grabbed one of the crumbled pieces of ground beef, held it in both hands, and tore into it with his tiny fangs.

“How do you like it?”

 _< I love beef,>_ Cas answered telepathically, not stopping eating to answer with his voice.

Dean grinned and petted Cas’s head with one finger before going back to the stove to make burgers for himself and Sam.

Cas had finished eating by the time Dean finished the burgers, and he rode on Dean’s shoulder as Dean took the plates of food out to the library, giving them a predatory stare the entire time.

“Here, man,” Dean said, sliding a plate toward Sam and sitting down with his own.

“Thanks.” He then noticed Dean's wet, burned shirt. "Nice."

"Shut up."

Dean watched Sam eat the burger dispassionately. He still remembered a time, long ago, when Sam had loved Dean’s cooking. When he'd loved anything at all.

Dean rubbed his fingers across his forehead, trying to soothe away his memories, the sadness and utter aloneness that had ruined his appetite.

Dean startled when the phone suddenly rang. “I’ll get it,” he said, and got up to answer it.

“Dean speaking.”

“Dean, got an assignment for you. Think you’ll like this one.”

“Colonel Harvelle,” Dean said, reflexively straightening his posture.

“Just a phone call, you can call me Ellen. How soon can you get to Central?”

“Any time, Sam and I can head out right now if you want.”

“Good, get on the road, then. Got something need’s looking into, and we’ve only got a couple days.”

“Yes, Col-- Ellen.”

“See you soon, Winchester.”

Once Ellen hung up, Dean turned and relayed the news to Sam.

“Whatcha gonna do with the pet while we’re gone?” Sam asked, eyeing Cas pointedly.

Dean had no answer. He hadn’t… thought this through at all.

“Think you can hire a pet sitter to come feed your _dragon_ while we’re gone?” Sam asked, chin propped on a fist.

“We’ll just take him with us,” Dean said, sweating.

“Oh yeah, that’ll go great. I’m sure that won’t draw any attention whatsoever. And I’m sure you’ll have plenty of chances to pick up _mealworms_ while we’re out, and take little baby-feeding breaks.”

“I can hide,” Cas said to Dean. And just like that, he blinked out of existence.

“That’s… very useful,” Sam said appreciatively, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“Cas?!” Dean sputtered, whipping around, looking for him.

“Its name is ‘Cas’ now? I thought it was Zeppelin.”

_< I’m still here. I’m just hidden from sight.>_

_That’s amazing,_ Dean thought to Cas, so proud of the little dragon.

“He told me his name is Castiel,” Dean answered Sam.

 _< And I can hunt my own food, I’m strong enough now,>_ Cas assured Dean.

“He’s still talking to me, too,” Dean told Sam. “He could help us a lot; we just have to be careful.”

“Talking to you how?”

“Telepathically.”

Sam nodded, impressed. “Very useful.”

“And if we get him started helping us on assignments now, think how awesome he’ll be when he’s bigger. Alchemists with our very own dragon. We’ll be unstoppable.”

Sam glowered. “ _One_ alchemist,” he said acidly.

“Yeah… sorry, Sam. It slipped.”

Ever since he’d been brought back soulless, Sam had no longer been able to use alchemy. Sam spent many of his long, sleepless hours trying to find any research that explained why a soul was necessary for the practice of alchemy, and if there was any way around it. But the thing Dean had accomplished, in bringing Sam back even in part, appeared to be unprecedented, or at least such an abomination that no writers they had yet found were willing to write on it.

It was one of the few topics that appeared to arouse any emotion in Sam at all, and that emotion was intense bitterness. Sam had no tolerance for weakness, no patience for underperforming, and his own impotence when it came to his former alchemical prowess was the one driving motivator in Sam’s relentless pursuit of a Philosopher’s Stone. If he cared at all about feeling again, or any other side effect of possessing a soul, he did not show it. All he wanted was power.

“And really, Dean, it actually bothers me when you’re this stupid. I can’t decide if you can’t help it, or if you ignore the obvious for your own convenience.”

Dean grit his teeth and swallowed, trying to keep his patience. There was no use starting a fight - Sam couldn’t help this brutality.

“What’re you talking about, Sam?” he said slowly through his clenched jaw.

Cas popped back into visibility again, perched on Dean’s shoulder, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

_Calm down, Cas. It’s fine._

“When it gets bigger?” Sam said condescendingly. “In what, another 30 years? You read the same records I did, Dean, and you saw how rotted its mother was. That dragon’s older than _we_ are. If this is as big as it’s gotten in 34 years, do you really think it’s going to reach anything resembling a _useful_ size in our lifetimes? Sure, the invisibility and the telepathy are handy, but don’t be an idiot about the rest.”

“Oh,” Dean muttered self-consciously. He _was_ an idiot, and Sam was right, about everything.

He missed his brother’s soul every day, but one thing he had to admit was that this version… at least he came right out and said whatever he was thinking. It had been highly educational for Dean, these past years.

“Have you asked it how it survived all those years, while its family rotted away around it?”

Dean looked over at Cas on his shoulder. Cas was staring at Sam, and then he suddenly blurred and shifted and reformed in his natural form. He then leapt off Dean’s shoulder and flew away, off toward Dean’s room and his tank.

“Why’ve you gotta be so cruel about everything?” Dean said angrily.

“What? It’s a good question,” Sam insisted.

“You could’ve… ugh, I don’t know.” Dean shook his head and threw up his hands, exasperated. “The old Sam would’ve had a nicer way to ask.”

“Well, the ‘old Sam’ had a soul, Dean, and if we’re pointing fingers--”

“I KNOW,” Dean snarled. “I know, I get it, ok? It’s my fault you’re like this, but just… Please. Just leave the dragon alone, okay? Let me deal with it. You don’t know how it feels to lose things, Sam. Not anymore.”

“I’m starting to think that’s an advantage.”

Dean stared at Sam, who stared back with heartless, calculating eyes. It gave Dean a chill. There were two monsters living in the bunker now, and Dean was only afraid of one of them.

“Go get packed, Sam,” Dean said quietly. “I wanna leave for Central before dark.”

Sam nodded and got up to go to his room. Dean picked up their plates of food and took them to the kitchen to throw the food away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, have something nice to make up for such a mean chapter - [pretend this is Dean petting wee lil dragon!cas](http://rottingtrees.tumblr.com/post/81017871079)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I've gotten so many (very nice!) comments wondering when I'm going to update and encouraging me to do so and hoping that it will be soon that I decided to just go ahead and do it now. I've reached a rough spot in my [current project](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2068671) anyway, so I'm ~~procrastinating~~ recharging my creative batteries by doing a chapter for this instead! I hope you guys like it.

Among the few things the brothers had left of the father that had abandoned them was a beautiful black car. Automobiles were a rarity, a status symbol among those rich enough to buy them or technologically savvy enough to build them. As they rode into Central City, heads turned and horses whinnied and shied away.

It was both the Impala and his automail which had earned Dean the name he’d carried since he’d become a State Alchemist - the Mechanized Alchemist.

Impala parked safely within the confines of the outer perimeter of the vast fortress that enclosed Central Command, Dean and Sam had to hike the rest of the way to Headquarters on foot.

“There it is,” Dean said softly to his pocket as they reached the top of the stairs leading up to the main building. “Central Command.”

Cas poked his head up out of Dean’s pocket. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the banner hung over the entrance, green with a silver dragon rampant.

“The flag of Amestris."

Cas cocked his head, eyes narrowed.

“See, look,” Dean said, taking out a silver pocketwatch to show him, the cover of which also bore the dragon insignia. “This is the symbol of the State Alchemists; it’s based on the flag.”

Cas ran a hand thoughtfully over the raised design on the pocketwatch. “Is this a dragon?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Dean nodded.

After a silent moment staring at it, Cas grabbed the watch and retreated back into Dean’s pocket with it.

“Aww, look, it’s started hoarding,” Sam snarked, having been watching the exchange.

Dean ignored Sam’s mean-spiritedness. He only studied Cas sadly, curled up around the pocketwatch. He wondered if Cas missed other dragons. He wondered if this was as close to another "dragon" as Cas would ever get again.

Dean put his good hand over his pocket, gently holding Cas against his heart. He wasn’t sure why he did it, it just seemed like the thing to do. He carried Cas and the pocketwatch cupped against his heart the rest of the way up to the main entrance.

At the main entrance, Dean took a deep, steadying breath before opening the large doors to let himself and Sam in. It was always nerve-wracking, even now, entering Central Command. Dean was no longer the youngest State Alchemist in Amestris,  he’d been at this some time now, but he still held the distinction as having passed the exam at the youngest age in Amestrian history. A true prodigy, he’d passed the State Certification exam at only twelve years old.

But there were still alchemists in Central who spared him no kind looks any time he bothered to show his face in the capital city. Alchemists who, no matter how astonishingly he’d performed when they’d tested him, believed he’d only attained his rank due to weight his surname carried. Alchemists who’d heard whispers of rumors about what had really happened to his arm and leg, rumors that he and his brother had committed the one most unforgivable sin.

There were any number of reasons those alchemists glared at him and turned their backs on him, none of which Dean could in good conscience disagree with.

Dean felt the thrum of Cas starting to purr against his chest. There was no sound, just the soothing vibration from deep inside Cas’s chest.

Dean’s heart constricted with gratitude. He stared down at his pocket, stunned by how much he loved the little creature at that moment.

Cas was _comforting_ him. Cas had sensed him growing upset and unhappy as he entered the doors and was _comforting_ him the best way he knew how.

“Are you just going to stand in the doorway all day or are we going in?” Sam asked, hovering near Dean’s shoulder.

“Shut up,” Dean croaked, his voice a thin crackle that held back the threat of an emotional tear-up. He quickly strode past Sam on into the building, directly to Colonel Harvelle’s office.

 

* * *

 

“Boys,” Colonel Harvelle greeted them, standing up from her desk, a smile on her face. “About damn time you finally show back up in Central.”

Dean maintained his posture and nodded. The Colonel insisted on treating him like family, but given how many accusations of nepotism got whispered behind his back (or stated bluntly to his face) already, Dean was always acutely aware of whether or not the Colonel had formally put him at ease.

“Ugh, at ease, both of you,” she said, already grabbing Sam and hugging him.

“Hello, Ellen,” Sam smiled. Soulless or not, he had an easy way with women. Of any age, really, it didn’t seem to matter.

“Hello, Sam. Are you being good to your brother?”

“Of course I am,” Sam said, putting on a wounded expression. “You should ask if he’s being good to me.”

“He’s always good to you. You’re the rotten one,” Ellen said, giving Sam a knowing look.

Sam shrugged.

“What about you Dean, how’ve you been?”

Mindful of the dragon in his pocket, Dean put up a hand to stop Ellen just shy of pulling him into a hug.

“Can’t,” Dean grimaced. He rubbed the right side of his chest, where the metal shoulder joined his body. “Acting up today.”

Ellen nodded. “Sorry, Dean.”

Dean shook his head and waved it away. “It’s fine.”

“You boys doing okay? You never write, you never call,” Ellen complained, immediately resuming her matronly guilt-tripping.

“We’re fine. Just busy,” Dean answered.

“Too busy to pick up a phone for five minutes to let me know you’re not dead?”

“We’re sorry.”

Ellen sighed loudly. “Well, anyway. I’ve got an assignment I thought you boys would appreciate. Saved it for you.”

Ellen walked back to her desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a file. She opened it on her desk and invited them both over to come look at it.

“This is a deserter by the name of Dr. Charlie Bradbury. She’s been missing in action for over a year now. She was part of some extremely sensitive research, which makes her a very high level security breach. She is to be detained and brought in for tribunal. We’ve been following her for several months; she’s settled down at this location for what appears to be the time being.”

“Why’ve you waited so long to bring her in?” Sam asked.

“Been draggin’ my heels,” Ellen shrugged, shuffling through the papers in the file. “She’s a good girl. Always liked Charlie.”

She looked back up at them. “But we’ve got a job to do boys, so let’s not dwell on it. She didn’t do her job. She ran off, and that puts us in the uncomfortable position of dragging her back. I don’t like it, but I don’t have a choice.”

“So what makes you think we’ll want to be the ones to do it?” Dean asked, quirking his eyebrow irritably.

“The research she was doing,” Ellen said, meeting Dean’s eyes seriously. “I thought you might like the chance to pick her brain a bit while you’ve got a captive audience, so to speak. This doesn’t leave this room, you two understand me?”

Dean glanced quickly at Sam, whose whole face was suddenly alight with interest.

They both nodded.

“She was part of a team that was trying to _create_ a philosopher’s stone,” Ellen said in a hushed voice.

“Did it work?” Sam immediately pressed, his enthusiasm making Ellen step back a bit.

“Not… exactly,” Ellen frowned, closing Charlie’s file.

“But there was something,” Sam urged.

“That’s why I’m sending you,” Ellen said, tucking Charlie’s file into a briefcase. “There’s things worth knowing, and if there’s anybody at all who could tell you, it’d be her.”

Sam grabbed Ellen and hugged her, knocking the briefcase from her hand. Ellen chuckled with surprise and returned the hug, patting his back.

“Alright,” Ellen said, gently prying Sam away. “Take the briefcase, it’s got everything you need,” she said to Dean.

Dean walked up to Ellen’s desk and grabbed the briefcase as she sat back down.

“You boys be safe, alright?” she said, throwing her feet up onto the desk, ankles crossed, and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

“We will,” Dean assured her.

Dean's nickname was the Mechanized Alchemist; Colonel Harvelle's was "the Flame Alchemist." After having tattooed a transmutation circle on her right hand, all she had to do to summon fire was snap her fingers.

Dean and Sam were turning to go and Ellen was casually putting a cigarette to her lips when she flicked her thumb against her first finger to create a little flicker of alchemical flame with which to light it.

At that very first spark, Castiel began writhing in Dean’s pocket, morphing chaotically from his human form to his dragon form in bits and patches, back and forth. Smoke curled from his nose, and he let out a high, panicked whine - a distress call.

“What was that?” Ellen asked, standing back up from her desk.

“Yeah, Dean, what was that?” Sam asked.

Dean dropped the briefcase and hurriedly scooped Cas from his pocket, back still to Ellen. He cupped him in both hands, eyes wide with panic.

“Are you okay?” he asked fearfully.

Cas lay limply in his hands, still caught somewhere between boy and dragon - winged and tailed and horned with clawed and scaled hands and digitigrade legs and scales that swept all over his pale skin.

When Dean didn’t answer them, Sam said to Ellen, “Do it again.”

“What, this?” she said, and she flicked her fingers again.

Cas convulsed in Dean’s hands and began morphing chaotically again. Dean whipped around, eyes wide, and roared, “STOP THAT,” so enraged it pulsed through him like a white hot, living thing.

Cas stabilized in his hands, his form shimmering at last into his natural dragon body, but he wasn’t black the way he normally appeared. He was white, shimmering with a silver iridescence, white like the intensity of Dean’s rage, white like the dragon that flew over the head of Amestris, and his eyes were red like fire. He shot up Dean’s arm, ran up the back of his neck, and coiled himself around the top of Dean’s head. He arched his back, flared his wings, and screamed, a true dragon’s roar that resonated painfully, letting loose with it a gout of flame that scorched the entire front of Ellen’s desk.

Dean made quite a sight, with his terrible fury and his clenched metal fist and his dragon crown. Ellen was honestly impressed.

“Where the hell’d you get that and why didn’t you tell me you had it?” she asked.

Dean breathed.

 _Are you okay?_ he thought to Cas.

 _< Hurts,>_ was all Cas managed.

“We’re leaving,” Dean said.

_You wanna stay up there or you want me to put you back in my shirt?_

_< Shirt.>_

Dean gingerly plucked Cas from his head, who was already slowly shifting back to his human shape and normal colors, and softly tucked him into his pocket. He then saluted the Colonel, picked up the briefcase, and waited to be dismissed.

“Go on,” Ellen said, waving them out. “Call me once in a damn while though, would you? Dismissed!”


	4. Chapter 4

Dr. Bradbury's last known location was going to be a several day-long trek from Central. They headed out immediately. Dean's skin was always crawling to get out of town, and Sam was so eager he bounded down the stairs leading out of the main compound two at a time.

Though he was a little concerned Sam would drive so fast he'd kill them all (and he said as much), Dean passed off first shift of driving duty to him. Sam looked like he wanted to mock him for it at first, but he refrained, simply taking the opportunity to drive faster and harder than Dean would.

Dean spent the drive with Cas in his lap, stroking the little reptile along his back and wings, and murmuring to him - comforting things, random things, occasionally nonsense sounds just to maintain the stream of soothing noise. Cas dozed warmed between Dean’s legs and hands and the sun that streamed in through the windows, tail curled around the tip of his nose.

The day was waning into early evening, and the road they were on was only dirt, flanked on either side by thick prairie.

“Pit stop,” Dean said, nudging Sam with his elbow.

“Seriously?” Sam complained. “Already?”

“Dude, come on, just pull over. Good a place as any.”

Sam sighed and pulled over.

_Hey, you need out?_

Cas slowly blinked up at Dean, then yawned, stood up in his lap, and stretched. Dean winced as his terribly sharp claws punctured straight through his trousers and into his leg. Dean opened the car door and Cas turned and took off, immediately soaring off into the tall grass.

Dean and Sam both got out of the car and took off for opposite sides of the road to take care of their business. Dean’s gaze wandered, admiring the sunset and the wildflowers. It was a beautiful day, and he enjoyed the road.

He felt a heavy thud on his shoulder as he buttoned his pants and looked over to see Cas perched there with a field mouse dangling from his jaws.

“Impressive,” Dean grinned, “but please don’t eat that _on_ me.”

Cas looked disgruntled somehow and swooped back down to the ground.

“I’m hungry,” Dean called out to Sam, watching Cas swallow his mouse.

“We didn’t bring anything,” Sam answered.

Dean grunted disappointedly. Cas looked up at him, mouse tail still dangling out of his jaws, as if to say _Don’t complain about being hungry to me, I offered this to you first._

“You want me to take a turn driving?” Dean asked, walking back to the car.

“I’m still good.”

Dean nodded. “Then how about you keep going for a while,” he said, opening the back door instead of the front. “I’m just going to sleep it off. Wake me up when we hit a town.”

“That works for me,” Sam agreed, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean called, “you ready?”

Cas flew in through the door Dean held open for him, and Sam got them back on the road.

Dean stretched out on his back in the back seat, and Cas promptly took a place on his chest. Dean sighed, finally feeling something inside him start to relax. Cas shifted forms and took on his human shape, and Dean petted his hair and stroked a fingertip down the smattering of black and blue scales flecked like freckles down his back between the wings that remained even when he looked human. Cas snuggled against him contentedly, fists bunched into the fabric of his shirt, and they both drifted to sleep.

 

* * *

 

“Dean, wake up.”

Dean groaned and sat up, rubbing at the ache in his neck from sleeping crammed against the car door. Cas thudded into his lap, unprepared for the sudden shift, and made a rude noise at him.

“Mm, sorry,” Dean muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"Here."

Dean's mouth watered and he quickly came fully awake as he registered the delicious smell of _burgers_ , juicy meat and warm bread and all the toppings he liked. Sam passed him a neatly tied cloth package from the front seat.

"I already ate," he said. "Grabbed something from the deli while they were fixing it. Got it to go, figured you could eat while I drive. Got some drinks up here, too."

Dean untied the red and white checkered napkin and saw two burgers wrapped up in waxed paper.

"Got two in case you wanted to feed one to the dragon.”

Dean looked up at Sam, who gave him an amiable smile.

Dean’s fingers clenched in the cloth carry-out wrapping and his heart hurt. This reminded him so much of the old Sam. This _kindness_ , this _thoughtfulness_. The way he smiled at Dean just then, his eyes looked like they had a _soul_ in them again.

This was the body of Sam when it _wanted_ something. It was clever and a very good actor. It had learned Dean’s buttons, knew how to ingratiate itself to Dean. It knew that what Dean wanted most was the sweet, kind-hearted little brother Sam used to be.

So it was pretending.

Or at least, if Dean was going to be charitable about it, it was trying.

Dean decided to be charitable. Some days he just wanted to have a brother he could love again, whether it was real or reciprocated or wise in any way or not.

“Thanks, Sam,” Dean smiled, fingers still clutched in the napkin. “This was really great of you.”

“So you don’t mind eating while I drive?” he asked hopefully.

“Nah, go ahead.”

Sam lit up gratefully. “Thanks, Dean,” he smiled, already starting the car.

Cas sat on the other side of the bundle of food, his hands crawling hungrily across the cloth napkin toward the burgers, but his eyes were fixed on Dean, studying him sadly.

 _< My nestmates were all dead,>_ Cas said, _< but having them there still helped. It still made me feel like I wasn’t alone. I knew my family was gone but I was so scared.>_

Cas balled up his fists, curling and uncurling his fingers, and dropped his eyes.

_< I was too scared to leave them. I was too scared to be alone. I thought maybe being with them was better even if they were gone.>_

Cas looked back up at Dean.

_< But… I knew they were dead. I knew I was alone. I know you love your nestmate very much but this one is dead too, Dean. I can see it. I think you know it, too, but you don’t want to accept it yet. You keep letting it hurt you because you still love it, but it doesn’t know any better because it’s dead.>_

Tears welled up in Dean’s eyes and he quickly wiped them away.

“Man, this smells awesome,” he said, unwrapping one of the burgers. “We better eat these while they’re still warm.”

He tore a chunk of beef patty off in his fingers and handed it to Cas. Cas accepted it in both hands, still looking up into Dean’s eyes.

 _The thing I did to Sam,_ Dean thought to Cas, _it was_ my _fault. And there’s still a chance I can_ fix _it. So no, I can’t accept it. Not yet. Not if there’s a chance I can make it right. He doesn’t deserve that. I mean, yeah. I admit it. The thought of not having my brother scares the hell out of me. But as selfish as I am, and I can admit I’m a selfish bastard, I’m not doing this just for me. I’m doing this for him, too. It isn’t right, him being stuck like this forever. Not on my hands. Not if there’s any chance I can fix it. So I’ll put up with whatever this-Sam dishes out until I make it right, because I’m the one who did this to him. Maybe that’s my penance. I can accept that. Putting up with a little bit of bullshit is nothing compared to what Sam’s gone through._

Dean wiped his fingers clean on the cloth napkin. “Go on. Try it, tell me how it is.”

Cas looked at the hunk of burger, eyes glinting hungrily, but he set it back down on the paper wrapping and wiped his hands the way he’d seen Dean do on the cloth napkin. He then jumped up and flew onto Dean’s shoulder, nuzzled his face into Dean’s ear, and hugged him.

Dean sighed and stroked his fingers down Cas’s back and wings.

 _Thank you,_ Dean thought, putting as much warmth and depth of feeling behind it as he could.

Cas stroked his tiny clawed fingers through the stubble on Dean’s cheek and then leapt back down toward the burgers. With an endearingly un-menacing growl he latched back onto the chunk of burger Dean had ripped off for him and tore into it. He closed his eyes blissfully as he chewed, fingers gripping even tighter into what remained of the little chunk possessively.

“Good?” Dean asked, an amused grin at the corner of his lips.

 _< Beeeeeeef,>_ Cas purred in his thoughts.

Dean finally unwrapped his own burger, salivating when the aroma hit him even more strongly. He took a massive bite and his eyes rolled back in his head.

 _Oh my God,_ he thought to Cas.

They made their way through the burgers giddily. Dean made Cas try some of the other toppings on his burger. Cas frowned adorably at the pickle, was merely confused at the lettuce (“tastes like crunchy water”), and was more inclined to sit on the warm bun than eat it. He made Cas wrap up half his burger and save it for later, as he was getting a pudgy belly and Dean feared that Cas wouldn’t stop eating even if he was already full.

 _< Why do you get to eat all of yours?>_ Cas grumped.

 _Because I’m much, much bigger than you,_ Dean answered, wrapping the leftover burger back up in the waxed paper and then tying it up in the cloth as Cas glowered at him. _And there’s a lot more room in my stomach. If you get to be my size someday, then you can eat whole burgers._

_< Good.>_

Cas flopped down onto his back in Dean’s lap and closed his eyes to take a nap. Dean petted his little overfull belly, which made him purr and stretch and curl his toes.

Dean leaned his head back and closed his eyes, good hand still draped over Cas, and drifted off into a contented doze as well.


End file.
